#ipro

Here some cute sport elves.

I’M SLEEPY time to FLOP MY FRIENDS

a dump of my crap art.

©  kiminamjoon on twitter

A ficlet for @celestialess ' amazing Alfar Cryptid AU! I have no self control, I swear. “Mama?” A deep hum came from Ithro's side as he kept on working with the rough bark of the tree.  It was old and barely holding, it would make a perfect kindling for the colder nights that were just around the corner. They needed all the materials they could get at the moment, Hali didn't like cold and Ithro was not going to risk his hatchling getting sick. He was worried enough on the daily basis. There was a moment of silence before the young Alfar spoke up again. “Why am I so small?” Ithro, perhaps too occupied with thinking of their preparation for the winter to notice the concern on Hali’s face, barked out a short laugh and offered a quite warm smile. “You're just a hatchling Hali, all hatchlings are small.” It was much later that he understood his mistake of not recognizing trouble when it came knocking on the door right in front of him. Later he would curse himself for his stupidity and ignorance which hurt his child. Later it was too late. “But I'm the tiniest.” Hali’s voice sounded too weak for Ithro to ignore it any further; he abandoned the bark and turned around only to see his hatchling examining its hands with unease and he felt his heart swell. The older Alfar furrowed an eyebrow and kneeled right beside his child, tilting his head just a little. “What do you mean?” Hali’s eyes only darkened with sorrow. “I mean that everyone else is at least twice my size, mama. A-and they're all stronger, their skin is thicker, they can jump higher.” First tears started to show up on the fluffy blue cheeks as he kept on talking. “When we play, they… they usually have to wait for me cause I'm not as fast. I'm worse than them on every ground and it's all my size’s fault.” Then, his hatchling looked up with blurry eyes, distress clear in its posture. “I'm faulty, mama.” Ithro could swear he felt something in his chest explode. It was too early for this kind of talk and he was perfectly aware of that; he himself still wasn't over several things, was still adjusting to the situation, learning to care about a life that wasn't his own. It wasn't the right time, not when he still kept on forgetting that he was indeed a parent figure now. “My Lítill Hali, listen to me closely now,” He started, carefully thinking through every word. Then again, how was he supposed to explain to the young Alfar that he wasn't expected to live that long, that he wasn't supposed to make it, that Ithro didn't even take proper care of the egg because of how early he gave up on it? “Such things, they just happen. It's nobody's fault.” Liar. He offered the hatchling a hand for a hug, but Hali took it instead in his small paws and placed one of them on the top of Ithro's. “Look.” He only muttered. The difference was enormous. The young Alfar’s whole hand was smaller than Ithro's palm, it was so much softer and more delicate. Even the claws seemed like they'd break under a bit of pressure and there was no possibility Ithro could argue with that. “I was born a runt, wasn't I? The smallest in the litter. That's why I never got to meet my siblings, they've already left the clan while I'm stuck here.” There was a lot of bitterness in his words and all Ithro felt like he could do was sigh heavily and close his hand over Hali’s. “There were never any siblings,” ÍÞróttaálfurinn said softly, taking his hatchling into his strong arms. It was so fragile he was almost afraid he'd hurt it on accident. “You, Hali, you're my Tíu. The tenth egg, the only one that survived.” Ithro swept the tears away gently as Hali buried his face into his chest. “That's why you're so special. You are alive.” His hatchling didn't say anything more this evening, not while the Alfar went back to work and not after he was finished. And it the morning, his Lítill Hali was nowhere to be found.